


Afternoon Shenanigans, or Somewhere Thereat

by Chicory



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Silly, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicory/pseuds/Chicory
Summary: Arthur recites a passage from the Arthurian legends to Merlin. Never did Merlin think that Arthur could be a prat even about that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahaha, yay, another absolutely pointless and silly and horrible drabble! It seems I can only write these short, stupid things. But at least this time it didn't take two years to write! So kudos to me.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Merlin. And this fic is, as always, unbetaed. I'm not fancy or relevant enough to have a beta.

Merlin shouldn't have given Arthur the books but at the time it had seemed like a brilliant if silly idea. He hadn't thought Arthur could find a way to torment him with them because Merlin wasn't even in the books and Arthur was barely mentioned.

He really should have known better. He _really_ should have known better.

"Now just hold on while I read this—this man is brilliant—he really had it right—"

Merlin lunged and tried to snatch the book from Arthur's hands but the prat dodged. While _laughing_. Merlin didn't know why he'd waited for him all those centuries. Or why he was keeping him.

"Where was I—oh right. "A servant"—" Arthur began anew with a meaningful look at Merlin, "—"who does not fear his master should not stay in his company or serve him"—"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it, you wanker. D'you know how many witches I had to fend off just to keep someone's royal arse safe? And it was proper hard work, I tell you. If it hadn't been for me, you would have been pushing up daisies on a weekly basis."

It was a testament to how much fun Arthur was having at his expense because—instead of protesting that he needed _help_ of any kind—he held up his hand, an almost maniac smirk on his face. "Wait, it goes on—"

Merlin groaned.

They circled the kitchen table and then dashed back into the living room; Arthur kept reciting from the book, his voice breathless with barely concealed mirth.

""You fear your master only if you respect him; and unless you hold him dear you do not respect him, but rather seek to deceive him and steal his goods. A servant should tremble with fear when his master calls or summons him"—"

He stopped in the middle of the bed to cackle his stupid head off and Merlin took the opportunity to tackle him. The bed groaned quite alarmingly, slid almost a foot across the room, but didn't collapse under them. For a while they lay still and quiet while Arthur caught his breath.

"Had your fun?" Merlin murmured into Arthur's skin.

"Quite," said Arthur.

"So I was a horrible servant, is that what you were saying?"

"Yes indeed, you were a horrible servant," Arthur replied cheerfully and then smiled, sweet and almost kind. "But you were all right in other areas."

"You're a prat," Merlin said because he felt morally obliged to say it.

Arthur snorted and said, "And yet you love me anyway."

Merlin didn't know if he was more annoyed that he had nothing to refute it with or that it was true anyway. Irritated, he bit the juncture of Arthur's neck and he let out a surprised squawk. He smacked the back of Merlin's head and then kept on reading, seemingly quite comfortable with Merlin draped all over him.

"I hate you," Merlin muttered.

"Sure you do," said Arthur, supremely unconcerned, and kissed the top of his head.

Well, maybe Arthur was quite tolerable. On good days. Not that Merlin was easy, no. A mere kiss on his head wouldn't make him forget his justified resentment! And he had many! He would just... get to it later, he thought, and settled over Arthur more comfortably. He sighed and nosed the curve of his jaw. It still felt like a dream that Arthur was here, in this time, and Merlin could touch him however he wished.

Arthur gave a laugh and moved his head. "Stop bothering me, Merlin, I'm trying to read. You should try it sometime."

Merlin was going to burn those books when Arthur wasn't looking. "So, is that your new favourite?" he asked, and he most certainly wasn't sulking over a book because that would just be pathetic.

"The passage or the book?"

Somewhat awkwardly Merlin managed to shrug. "Either?"

"No," Arthur said, and something suspicious creeped into his voice and Merlin was instantly wary. "My favourite passage is actually: "For the more blonde one is, the better"," he said, and then he flicked a blatant glance at Merlin's hair and smirked. "Clearly Chrétien de Troyes was a wise man. Had he been alive at the same time as me, I would have made him court scribe in Camelot."

"He was French," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur waved his hand in dismissal. "A king can forgive such minor mistakes."

"You are very magnanimous, sire," said Merlin, wryly.

"Why, thank you," Arthur said, and didn't either notice or care. Merlin leaned towards not caring because Arthur had always been quite adept at ignoring him when it suited him. "I can even forgive that his books aren't about me. I mean, Greeks? The Greeks haven't done anything interesting in centuries."

"I'm sure the Greeks would be happy to hear you say that."

"I'm not going to say it _to_ them. Don't be daft, Merlin."

"Right."

In one hand Arthur held the book and his other hand carded through Merlin's hair. His scent surrounded Merlin, and his heat seeped through their clothes, and Merlin could feel his heartbeat against his own. It really was quite comfortable, he thought, somewhat sluggishly.

Arthur chuckled. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mm," Merlin mumbled, and thought about the eternity when he hadn't been able to sleep at all, haunted by memories and ghosts and endless waiting. He hadn't told Arthur about it; about the so many centuries stretching out between them. Merlin wanted to forget them; forget the maddening loneliness and the gnawing insecurities, the grief and the rage that had almost threatened to burn the whole world if not for the promise for Arthur to come back.

"Do you want me to read for you?" Arthur asked, amused and fond and so very dear. Merlin thought it might be fun; to imagine a different Arthur, a different Camelot, different people and how differently it could have all gone. At least, more fun than recalling how it had all truly gone. He must have nodded because Arthur began, his voice oddly pleasant, "This story tells about Cligés, a half-Grecian knight who falls in love with beautiful Fenice..."

**Author's Note:**

> The passage Arthur recites is from Cligés by Chrétien de Troyes, Penguin Classics. When yours truly read the passage herself, she thought Arthur from the BBC show would so totally get a kick out of it and this ficlet happened.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


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